ing to Khadee'geh, and the chieftain is sur- the sultan, or under the uncertain and disorprised and pleased to meet a ready acqui- derly government of the Mamlooks. escence with his wishes.

The young Bedawee'yeh, according to the custom of her tribe, disappears from the encampment; she has fled into the surrounding solitude, and Hhosey'n departs also, fondly expecting to bring her back a willing and triumphant captive to his tent. It is the time of spring, and the appearance of the wilderness, carpeted with verdure and enamelled with flowers, is poetically depicted, as are also the impassioned exclamations of the lover, wandering in search of "the beauty of her age," el mahhboo'beh el czazeel, "the beloved gazelle."

The retreat of Khadee'geh is betrayed to Hhosey'n by a hound which follows him from the camp; but when he advances to seize and embrace the maiden, he is slain by a dagger which the virgin daughter of Sha'hee'n plants with boldness and dexterity in his breast.

At that period the military service was popular. A man became a janissary, or he enrolled himself among a band of spahis for a limited period. In general he managed to leave or quit the service at his pleasure. The discipline was lax, and he was in a great measure his own master. During a considerable portion of his time of service he remained probably in his own village, attending to his private affairs, until some sudden emergency required his presence in the field.

If the property of the peasant was then no more secure than it is now, there was at all events much greater security for personal liberty. A man might be deprived of every valuable he possessed; his flocks and his herds might be seized by the tax-gatherer ; but then in this country, where a raw radish, or a turnip, and a bit of bread, or a little goat's milk and some dhourra, are considered good and sufficient food, he could always feel tolerably secure of getting a dinner; and as for clothing, he had little care about that in so warm and mild a climate.

Khadee'geh flies by night to the camp; she pacifies the dogs by her well-known voice; she reaches the tent of Ragial, and in an impassioned address acquaints him with what has taken place. The lovers fly for At that period, then, whatever other evils greater security to the nuptial tent, which befel him, he generally felt that he could dishas been pitched for Hhosey'n at a distance pose of his person in any way that he thought from the rest, and there "they embrace in fit; but now no strong healthy man in this marriage, taking God alone for a witness." country can ever lay himself down in his They then determine to make their escape cottage to sleep at night with any feeling of and join another tribe. Ragial secures the confidence that he will ever see his house fleetest of the dromedaries, but as they again after sunrise the next morning. There pass the Sheikh's tent, Khadee'geh is seized is not a single village in the whole land that with an irresistible desire to take a last has not over and over again been surroundlook at her sleeping father; she approach. ed at night with armed soldiers. At dayes the tent door, lifts the long coarse hair- light the officer in command has broken into cloth, but all is darkness within. Ragial the houses, and has seized all the grown-up urges their departure, a noise is heard in males amid the shrieks of women and childthe camp, the dogs bark, and the newly- ren. The men have then been marshalled married couple mount their dromedary and fly.

They are pursued, but the darkness favours them.

in a row outside the village, the old and infirm have been dismissed, and a certain number selected from the remainder by lot. These have been marched off into Egypt, there drilled by European soldiers, and then sent away to fight the pasha's battles in the Hedjaz.

On the third day they are overtaken; Ragial makes a powerful address to his breth ren, and many of them espouse his cause. A combat ensues, which ends in the breaking One-third of the conscripts, I am told, on up of the tribe, part of them adhering to Ra- an average, die in a few years; some pine gial, and part of them determining at all away with grief, and others, worn down by hazards to avenge the death of Hhosey'n. the hardships of the service, leave their bones Ragial secures the co-operation and assist to whiten upon the deserts of Arabia. Someance of another tribe; he displays prodigies times an infirm old man, or a youth broken of valour, and at last becomes a most pow-down by sickness, blinded with ophthalmia, erful chieftain !

After the recital of the story, I inquired of our circle of Arabs how they liked Mahommed Ali and Ibrahim Pasha. Here I had evidently touched upon a very tender topic, but the presence of the Albanian soldier was a check upon the expression of their feelings. After his departure, however, they all piped in with the universal note of discontent. The conscription for soldiers appears to be the great grievance of which the entire pop ulation most bitterly complain. To get rid of this grievance, the inhabitants would gladly come again under the domination of

or disabled with wounds, finds his way back, after a long absence, to his native village, a pitiable object of infirmity and destitution.

Such are the horror and disgust felt by the poor inhabitants at the idea of entering the pasha's regiments, and such their desperation from the fear of being torn from their homes and families, and draughted into the military service, that some have broken out their teeth in order that they might not be able to bite a cartridge, others have cut off the fingers of their right hand, so that they cannot use a ramrod or draw a trigger, and some have knocked out an eye or blinded

Mohammed Ali, by giving his troops good pay, and procuring them commodious quar-country is rocky and mountainous, and alters, has endeavoured to overcome the most entirely destitute of settled inhabitants. repugnance of the people to enter his army. The wandering tribes of Bedouins penetrate But it is all of no avail-the love of home is through almost every part of it, and the too strong to be thus conquered; and as the property and persons of the few settled inpasha cannot trust his Syrian conscripts in habitants are consequently always rendered Syria, they are always sent away to distant insecure.

A SISTER'S LOVE.

BY MRS. EDWARD THOMAS.

THEY said it was my brother, who'd achiev'd the glorious deed-
The tall fair boy, my playfellow, for his home could dauntless bleed!
What tears of joy stream'd from mine eyes, to hear that brother's name
In blessings, froin a myriad tongues, borne on to lasting fame!

A mother's heart may swell with love-a father's swell with pride-
And gentle pray'rs dilate the heart of the young bashful bride ;-
But in a sister's breast there glows a fervour deeper still,
For the brother whom young Glory calls his duty to fulfil!

What kiss is like a sister's kiss, when they again may meet?
What voice is like a sister's voice, the hero home to greet?
And oh what tender watchings, like a sister's jealous care—
To tend the wound the battle gave, and all its anguish share?

And where's a tear so sorrow-fraught, to gem his early grave,
As that which, silently and slow, a sister's cheek does lave ?—
When he is numbered with the dead, and all his hopes are past?
She then, who lov'd him when a child, remembers him the last!

LOVE ALL BLESSED.

(FROM PETRARCH.)

BLEST be the golden year, the auspicious day,
The season, and the time, the moment blest,
And smiling land, where first mine eyes confess'd
The fire of hers that stole my heart away!

eight in the evening. I can't break through my rule to please a parcel of work-people."

The poor girl looked at the large heavy bundle with a heavy sigh, and murmured something about a long way, and her sister being ill."

"That's not my fault. I can't make the distance shorter, nor your sister well. I can't have my work-people mixed up with my customers. Before nine or after eight-do you hear?"

THAT gentlemen are not at all particular in the sit of a shirt-collar, all the world knows -they are far too magnanimous for thatstill there are cases where the wrinkle of a shirt-collar might be as frightful as the wrinkle of a frown; and this being the case with Lord Killikelly's stock, he was obliged to cancel the whole and order a new edition, The poor girl did hear, and, seeing Lord and for this purpose he dropped into a ready-Killikelly, walked quietly away, as if me te linen warehouse not a hundred miles ashamed of being seen; while the lady of irn Charing Cross. the counter, feeling now that the same comparison which elevated her above her poor work-woman degraded her below Lord Killikelly, shrank crouching down into her own grovelling place quite as naturally.

Having given a chart of his shirt-collar, and laid down the geometry and geography of wristbands and button-holes, and the lati. tude and longitude of its length and breadth, Lord Killikelly assumed his spectacles, and got himself transported to Lisson Grove.

thady of the tenement did not hear his extrance. She was herself entranced in that highest of all earthly heavens, (we believe, too, it is the highest of heavenly heavens,) power. She was comparing herself, at her own valuation, her own position in life, her house, and shop, and fixtures, at so much a year, her furniture at so much value, her cap, with so many yards of real thread lace, and none of your Urlings, her gown of tho rough gros-de-nap,-she was putting all these During his journey he occupied himself with into comparison with a poor, meanly-clad, speculations on the use that women were of half-starved, emaciated girl, who stood near-in the world. He thought of Veronese strugly fainting under the weight of a large bun-gling for a livelihood, and the eyes of the dle, with lips as white as the linen, and eyes surcharged with tears.

young girl he had just seen swimming in tears and sadness perfectly haunted him. He could not shake from his mind the idea that he had seen her before, or else a resem. blance to some other floated across his brain. At last he arrived at a conviction that it was Mrs. Reginald Courtney Gibbes's pale sickly teacher that this poor sempstress brought to his mind's eye, and he added her to the bulk of the feminine gender who were sadly in their own way in this mundane creation; and he at last arrived at a certainty that women were quite a superfluity, a refuse, of no use in the world.

Lord Killikelly found that the little house in Lisson Grove had rested under the Turkish blessing-it was exactly in the same placeit had not been removed. As he ascended the stairs he heard Mrs. Rowland's complaining voice. "I tell you he will never come near us any more. If he wanted to buy pictures, he would go to Wilkie, or Mulready, or Turner, or Callcott. He would ne

ver come to your papa. We shall never see his face again."

"O yes," said Veronese, "he said that he would come again, and I rely upon his word."

"Ay," said the artist, "so few people have any love for the arts."

Any love for the arts!" responded Mrs. Rowland; "I am sure I am sick of the word. I don't at all wonder that the children hate "Not come again!" exclaimed the artist, the sight of a pencil; I am sure I do." in a somewhat irritable voice; "I tell you"Mamma," said Veronese, "we know our he has a very fine feeling for the arts. He might have been an artist himself. He understood the principles of the arts better in five minutes, than some men with whom I have talked in five hours."

"Love the arts!" exclaimed Mrs. Rowland, "I am sure that they who love the arts can have no love for anything else. Neither wife nor child, nor a comfortable house, nor food, nor clothing, nor any of the necessaries of life."

"You are almost right, my dear," replied the artist; "if he love anything else above the arts, he had better be a grocer, and weigh out tea and sugar all the days of his life"

"I am sure I wish you had been a grocer; it would have been a blessed thing for Veronese and me. And as to not liking a comfortable home and a comfortable table better than daubing, I should like to know where such a stupid could be found, always excepting yourself."

own lot in life, and we ought to endure it." "Ay, Veronese, I know that you are too proud to complain, but your proud spirit will be broken one of these days. I wonder what we have to be proud of."

Veronese sighed deeply; the proud spirit was already bruised, though it might not be broken.

66

Dragging through the mud to these schools, twice a week, with feet wet and the headache."

"I am glad to do it,” said Veronese.

"Glad to do it!" continued Mrs. Rowland; " yes, and to be ill paid, and found fault with, into the bargain."

Mrs. Rowland wounded Veronese in her tenderest part-her pride.

66

And, now, if you lose that ridiculous Mrs. Adolphus Gibbes's school, I should like to know what we are to do without it."

"It is not much," said Veronese. "Much! no. I know it is not much; but how can we spare ever so little?"

66 Ah, my dear," replied the artist, looking as much like Socrates as possible, who, of "Never mind, Veronese," said the artist, course, was under infinite obligations to his "they are low-minded people, and do not wife for cultivating his patience so admira- deserve that we should give ourselves the bly, though possibly, like our artist, he might trouble of instructing them. It is all wasted be only congratulating himself on his own time to endeavour to inspire stocks and stones immeasurable superiority," O, my dear, the with perceptions of the beautiful and subarts, like virtue, are their own sublime re-lime. Send them word that you will not go ward." near them any more."

66

“I wish I had married a cheesemonger," exclaimed Mrs. Rowland, in great indignation that anything, in or out of the world, could be preferred to a scolding wife-" Í wish I had married a cheesemonger."

The artist, by a glance to the heavens, that is to say, to the ceiling, seemed to second the motion.

"Look at the Phillicodys," exclaimed Mrs. Rowland, "three of the children at boarding-school! Mark might have been at college, if his father would have let him; Phoebe from a first-rate finishing school; and such housekeeping,-more eaten there in a day than we see in a month; and all with soap-making: and look at poor Vero

nese!"

Though Mrs. Rowland had known Mr. Rowland some years, she either was, or affected to be, very much amazed.

66

"And live upon air?" asked Mrs. Rowland. "O something will turn up," said the artist. Something turn up!" said Mrs. Rowland; and she turned up' the most prominent feature in her face.

However, something did turn up-Lord Killikelly entered.

Lord Killikelly was the most agreeable of living men that morning. He told Mrs. Rowland that he was exceedingly sorry to see her look so ill-a compliment that immediately predisposed that lady to be in good humour, as her complaints were never thought anything of, never cared for, never Now scolding always seems very magnani- believed, and would not be if she dropped mous to ourselves when we can make it ap-down to the earth. The artist explained to pear to our own satisfaction that we are only very generous for somebody else; that takes away at once all the selfishness of the case. "Mamma," said Veronese, "think nothing of me. So that we can struggle on, what does it matter how the few years of life are spent?"

"Veronese is almost worn out," continued Mrs. Rowland; "trailing about the streets all weathers, and teaching a parcel of tiresome children to do what nature never meant them to do, and what they hate and abominate-to draw."

him a few principles of the arts, which he understood almost by intuition; and he selected ten of his original studies, ten of the blotted ponds and pools of Indian ink, with which he was in perfect raptures, and for which he paid the artist a very substantial bit of tissue paper, in the shape of a hundred pound Bank of England note.

Veronese looked on with amazement. She could not but feel how inadequate was the requital. Her pride took the alarm. Lord Killikelly saw it, and proceeded to renew his self-congratulations on the prize which he

had obtained for his portfolio; and if Veronese was not deceived, the artist was, into a belief of his own matchless genius, and Mrs. Rowland was almost convinced that her husband was not quite the fool which she complimented him on being, since here were solid pounds to attest the contrary. Even we, her true historian, are hardly able to tell whether or not Mrs. Rowland believed her lord to be the most foolish or the most distinguished of mankind, since she constantly assured him that he was the one, and everybody else that he was the other.

Howbeit, on this occasion, in a rapture of glad surprise, Mrs. Rowland was delighted in spite of herself; and in the first emotion of her joy she hurried out of the room, to send the maid to the nearest baker's shop for two pennyworth of biscuits, and to pour out the dregs of their last bottle of port wine, which had been had on occasion of their late party. Half of this Lord Killikelly compelled himself to swallow, having first vainly protested that he never took wine in a morning, that it did not agree with him, was a bad habit, &c. &c.; all of which was overruled by Mrs. Rowland most strenuously declaring it could do him no harm, a thing which Lord Killikelly much doubted; but at last, to avoid further importunity, ran the hazard, and gulped down half of the muddy dregs, and then departed, having_promised to pay his intended visit to Mrs. Phillicody in the evening at her house at Bermondsey. "I told you that something would turn up," said the artist.

"How very strange it is," said Mrs. Rowland, examining the note to find out if it were good-"how very strange! I must get it changed."

"Not at all strange," said the artist. "He knows those studies will be worth ten times the sum by-and-by-in a few years-when I am gone. They are my original studies." A bitter sigh from the deep heart of Veronese broke upon his ear as she left the room. "Hark ye, my dear," said the artist to his wife, "tell Veronese to buy herself a new gown."

drove could get out of him;-having, we say, been brought most unwillingly to believe that his lordly vehicle could, by no surmisable probability, be compressed within the dimensions of a passage of three feet wide, or depressed beneath a triumphal arch of something less than six feet high; and having, on the same evidence, moreover, ascertained that the said court was thoroughfare," why, then, we say, that Lord Killikelly, remembering his philosophy and his valour, plunged the daintiest of feet, and the most delicate of pumps, and the finest plumage of silk stockings, down into that plentiful composition of chemical affinities, vulgarly known as mud by unscientific people, and having gone through a mental calculation of the for and against of submitting to be mulcted and impositioned, according to the good will and pleasure of the honourable member for cheating, or to be pelted with a quantum sufficit of abuse, and considering that, in all the contingencies of the case, it would be better to make a dutiful submission, and pay the fine,-why, on these premises, Lord Killikelly paid treble the fare that was fair, to the infinite chagrin of the receiving party, who bitterly regretted not having doubled his demand, seeing that he had got the whole so easily, when he had only calculated on the half.

This matter being settled to the mutual dissatisfaction of both parties, the cab, giving a few parting splashes, dashed off, and Lord Killikelly splashed on.

An economical gas-light, so placed as to show the want of light in three different dismal alleys, very kindly hinted to Lord Killikelly the presence of a rivulet of mud mean. dering down a romantic gutter in the centre of the court, and thus afforded him a choice of being jostled by a waggish sweep, or of precipitating his reluctant steps into the stream. He remembered at the moment, with some contrition of conscience, having laughed at Lord Lauderdale's humane jest on the comparative merits of ducks and geese, as employed in the profession of chimney-sweeping, and he internally concocted a most fluent and energetic appeal to the justice and sensibilities of the peers, when he came into juxtaposition with the little gentleman of the black robe, who having, on his Lord Killikelly's aristocratical ideas were part, a strong perception of his own indemightily scandalised at the localities of Ber-pendence and superiority, enlarged himself mondsey. The mud was not at all equal to the alluvial of the West End; the aroma of luminous fish and cabbage-stalks did not produce quite so pleasant a perfume as Atkinson's mille fleurs-the aspect of the natives was rather Goth and Vandalish, and the houses were all horrors.

CHAPTER VIII.

But Lord Killikelly was a philosopher, and as he became convinced from the concur: ring testimony of a roasting apple-woman, an "all-hot" man, and a highly respectable collector and dispenser of pots, that his very elegant equipage, which he enjoyed by right and title of payment of eight-pence a mile, and what more the gentleman who

to his greatest capacity of size, for the pleasure of making his fellow traveller feel his power. So Lord Killikelly chose the mud instead of closer contact, which amused the little blackamoor quite as well; and his lordship's intended oration was cut short by the reflection that the boy, degraded below humanity by the legislation of king, lords, and commons, had the pleasure for once in his life of being above his superior.

On Lord Killikelly waded, being convinced that he actually was in a place where human beings existed, by hearing children. crying, and women scolding, and men storming-all those symptoms of matri